I’ve enjoyed the brews, food, and ambience at bars; that is, until recently, when, “after all these years,” I finally wised up the instant a formerly comfortable bar’s evening musical group started to perform — and I could no longer hear the people three feet away.
Call me a Ninny. But I know myself well, and I am, rather, a person who reasonably insists on enjoying life without having to feel my head implode from childish — and unlawful — LOUD NOISES.
Among our too-many cries for quiet in this noisy world against overly loud noises, many of us have “put up with” hyper-intrusive, brain-splitting music, never — during its commonsense-defying pummeling — understanding how anyone in his/her right mind willingly tolerates the titanic interruptions to conversation and mental/physical stability.
To wit, in deplorable situations like my latest bar letdown, even the music itself struggles for sanctity, as it loses clarity and purpose with the first chaotic chords. Irony? Of course. Along with the conjoining idiocy that makes it so.
Society is LOUD ENOUGH AS IT IS for us human types to have to put up with entertainment managers who cavalierly turn modest spaces into gargantuan noise polluters.
It would frustrate me to forgo future visits to deafening bars due to ornery resistance by managers to turn the loud music down. But from now on, if managers at overly loud establishments refuse to turn down the needless roar, I’ll leave to treat my ears to the “The Sound of Silence.”
Bartender (6 feet away): What’ll you have?
Me: Come again?
Bartender: What can I start you with?
Me: Oh — let’s do the Brown.
Bartender: What did you say, the Blond?
Me: No, not the Bock. The BROWN.